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12:08 p.m. - July 01, 2003
I'm worried about my student evaluations, especially now
I feel awful. This morning a student - one of the quiet ones - came up to me and started to cry, unhappy about her midterm grade. It's a C, a high one (78.8%), and she was upset. Not in the arrogant University of Michigan-woman sense, but in the I'm-frustrated-because-I-work-hard manner, and there's a world of difference there. I tried to comfort her and I realize I'm not a warm individual. I know she's going to pass the course as long as she does decent on the final exam so why worry, why be this upset? It just made her cry harder and I didn't know what to do.

I do have absurdly high expectations, load up the reading assignments, give two quizzes per day, and demand their best. I don't go out of my way to sabotage or place an undue burden on them, but come on, they're the ones who signed up for this 2-week, 6 hour per day mini-session involving highly technical language and readings. It's not for the knobbly-kneed, you know? Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I think only from my perspective as a one-time Stepford student. Was proud of other students who comforted her even if half the female students gave me nasty looks afterwards. She was very accurate when she mentioned I pay more attention to those in the center than those on the ends (she's the farthest to my left, very last seat, first row) and I think it's only natural for the eyes to gravitate towards the center. I noticed after the break she sat in the center and that's good, though it doesn't exactly alleviate any concern.


Last night there were thunderstorms that played a game with my head: The phone kept ringing and each time, I went downstairs to answer. The storm clouds were violet and shook the townhouse and I loved it. Around 1:30 this morning I again went down to pick up the receiver and perhaps I was still dreaming because I thought it was Spec calling and I was disoriented, trying to figure out how he obtained the phone number. I guess I was dreaming about him though I don't remember the content.

For a few days now I've been thinking of writing him a letter. I don't know what good or goal it would accomplish, but there are a few things I'd like him to know. Is that lame, writing a letter out of the blue when I've made it explicitly clear I don't want him to contact me again? I miss him with that ache that's only partially masked under the best circumstances and yearns in the open late at night. I find I'm angry with him still. Like everybody says, I stymie myself; perhaps I could have made it work. Look at that, what kind of crock wishful thinking runs through my mind.

I am unsettled today. Having dinner tonight with my mother and her partner. That's twice in less than a month. It's not that I don't love her, it's that I can't stand being around her, and I'm a poor liar when she asks, Do you have plans?.


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